


What Love I Have to Give

by SunlitGarden



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hippies, F/M, Feelings, Flower Child Betty Cooper, Fluff, Grateful Dead references, Hippies, Journalist Jughead Jones, POV Jughead Jones, Photographer Jughead Jones, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24991009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlitGarden/pseuds/SunlitGarden
Summary: The longer Jughead's on tour, the more difficult his columns are to control. Jughead’s never been this inspired, but he’s also having trouble focusing. Ever since his editor told him to pay attention to pretty girls like the smiling best friends in the photos from his second article in the series, he’s been sticking to them like glue. More accurately, drawn to them like moths to a flame–one particular flame: Betty Cooper.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Minor or Background Relationship(s), for other people
Comments: 50
Kudos: 110
Collections: 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees, Color Me Riverdale





	What Love I Have to Give

The longer Jughead’s on tour, the more difficult his columns are to control. Jughead’s never been this inspired, but he’s also having trouble focusing. Ever since his editor told him to pay attention to pretty girls like the smiling best friends in the photos from his second article in the series, he’s been sticking to them like glue. More accurately, drawn to them like moths to a flame–one particular flame: Betty Cooper.

Her gorgeous blonde hair is adorned in braids and flowers one day—loose, sweaty, and flowing as she dances with the crowds in the next. She wears denim shirts, pastel blouses, flowery skirts, and dresses that hike up her muscular thighs. The only reason he looks at her body so much is because she was often facing the stage so he couldn’t always see the way her eyes lit up or crinkled with her favorite songs, the bouncing glee she shared with _V_.

He’s hopelessly in love with her and the way her voice lulls him in around the campfire, husky with lack of sleep, talking about life and love and _everything_. He loves her so deeply it feels like she can’t be real, the perfect Pygmalion in his young journalistic career.

Her best friend, Veronica, adores the attention that the column brings, but she loves Betty as well so she doesn’t mind sharing the spotlight or her friend. He pretends to interview them on the daily. He takes photos and develops his favorites for them to keep. Finally, Betty gives him her address so he doesn’t have to keep carrying the prints around and neither do they, giving them ample opportunity to be _free_. “Write to me,” she says, her fingers curling around his as she presses the little sheet with her phone number and address into his palm.

“I will,” he promises, holding it tighter. And he does. Every time he tracks them down at a concert she comments on his latest pieces, shouting right in his ear over the music, pulling him into a dance.

“I can’t,” he protests. “Journalists aren’t supposed to be a _part_ of the scene. I’m supposed to be neutral.”

“Isn’t the point of writing to experience things?”

He takes her for rides on his motorcycle and relishes the way she clamps around his waist, the way his jackets smell like her sweat after he inevitably slips them over her shoulders to keep her safe.

During an interview at the hotel (instead of around a campfire, for once), Veronica’s busy singing and showering away her latest fling and Betty’s knees are drawn up to her chest. He sees the nicks and scratches on her legs from crude attempts at shaving instead of thorns or dancing.

“I guess I wanted to feel pretty.” She shrugs, picking at a scab and watching the blood ooze in a thin strip.

“You’re always pretty, Betts. You’re beyond that… more than my words or camera could ever hope to convey.”

Her eyes are big, almost like a living Keane painting. Smart, but sad, sometimes.

She tries to crawl into his lap but he doesn’t want it to be this way, her feeling vulnerable and him just being _there_ , so he hugs her instead of fucks her and savors the warm press of her body against his. When Veronica comes out, towel tucked neatly against her breasts, she barely even raises her eyebrows.

“I’m going to check on Archie,” she announces, prancing after her favorite indie as of late with nothing but a towel and her room key in hand as she searches the halls for him.

Jughead _should_ keep interviewing people, looking for stories. Instead, he looks at Betty’s photo album, a small one she snuck into her bag to show him her nephew and niece, her sister, her _family_. Every time she turns the pages, she touches one of the photos like she’s leaving a kiss against their cheeks instead of her fingerprint.

“You’re amazing,” he murmurs, rubbing her shoulders.

She shows him her diary and her scars, and he surrenders to the fact that he’s hers forever.

Later, when they’re quiet and safe and content, they admit to one another, “I love you more than I love music.”

It’s the strongest declaration he can make, and he makes it over and over again. Any words he has to give–any heart he has to love with–he gives it all to her.

After a while, he loses track of how many times the contact high from concerts has him forgetting his job and molding to her body, rubbing up her ribcage, groping her breasts. They become brazen and wild–making out in public, fucking each other in strangers’ empty tents.

It’s reckless enough that he should be worried and yet with Betty, his anxieties disappear. He wonders if and when they’ll have children as he idly traces her bare stomach, imagining what it would be like to build a family with her nurturing presence.

However chaotic the world is, they’re comforted by each other, challenged to be the best versions of themselves. They do photo sessions that are solely for each other, pin-ups and portraits where she’s practically glowing, she’s so lovely. He even poses for a few so she can keep him in her bedroom at home when they’re not on the road together. Lately, _home_ has felt like it’s when they’re with each other. Some days are harder than others, and he tries to support her any time he can. She stays up to help him with deadlines, reframing his words and the world until his thoughts make sense again.

The column keeps going, his prose constantly drawn to Betty Cooper and every feeling associated with her.

Jughead takes a three-hour drive from one of his assignments just to have dinner with her family. He’s pretty sure they hate him–the parents, anyway–but it’s so nice to be sitting around a normal dinner table with Betty, her hand squeezing his. She’s absolutely _beaming,_ and he wants to see that for the rest of his life. It’s so inspiring that he’s possessed to ask her parents for their permission to woo her properly.

“What do you mean _properly_?” her mother asks sharply.

It’s a good point of clarification, one that should have him mortified. Instead, he blurts out something about a promise ring.

He and Betty elope during a concert, their first dance a slow embrace set to the Grateful Dead's, “If I had the world to give, I’d give it to you.”

Veronica weeps with joy for them and even tries to hold Betty from the other side and sway to share in the moment until her girlfriend gently eases her away.

They have a pretend wedding in Betty’s backyard at home where the flowers seem to bloom a little brighter just for her.

Years later, they’re in their living room, slow dancing to “I will give what love I have to give, long as I live _,”_ as their children prance in wonder, surrounded by framed articles, band posters, and photos of their glory.

Music. Prose. Love.

It’s all part of their story.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a happy thought if you can! I'm @lovedinapastlife on Tumblr and appreciate all the people who've helped support me and made me feel like singing, especially those who looked over this fic for me. Thank you for your love and I hope you receive it in abundance!


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